


Special Order Forms

by falconeggs



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, it’s just a big mountain of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 07:05:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falconeggs/pseuds/falconeggs
Summary: “Patrick loves David the exact same way Johnny loves Moira: unconditionally, and for no good reason.”or,David spends a day looking for his father, and finds something about himself, instead.





	Special Order Forms

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this sort of quickly because of my rapid decline into love for this show. It was supposed to be a little short thing, but it kinda got away from me and ended up way longer than I thought it would. All mistakes are my own. If you wanna hang, I’m @focksii on tumblr. Enjoy!

David enters the motel’s office and is met with, not his father, whom he was looking for, but, instead, Stevie, who looks an absolute disaster. Her hair is pulled back, and her eyes are sunken in, and there’s a very good chance that she’s wearing yesterday’s t-shirt and flannel. She’s staring at her coffee mug like it shit in her Aunt Maureen’s urn. In all their years of friendship, she’s never looked so awful.

“You look great,” he deadpans as he approaches her desk. “Fresh as the morning dew.”

“Shut up,” Stevie groans. She falls forward and puts her head in her hands.

“And that personality is as warm and inviting as ever,” he continues. But this is serious, obviously. It concerns David. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says, muffled slightly by her own hands.

“I do!” David demands, plopping his ringed hands onto her messy desk. “Whatever caused this has to be promising gossip. When I hear my mother talking loudly to Twyla at lunch about whatever it is, I want to able to correct her on the details. As your best friend, I think I’m entitled to some kind of knowledge rights.”

Stevie whips her head up to glare at David. “You have no rights here,” she says, in her same, even tone.

“Uh, yes I do, it’s in the official friendship laws,” David says, flippantly. He leans over the desk and takes Stevie’s hands. “Please? Obviously, you’re in some kind of emotional distress and it’s very unnerving, and you’ve caught me on a day where I’m feeling particularly generous. So, just tell me.” He’s concerned for her. It’s probably reading on his very expressive and well-trained face. “What’s wrong?”

Stevie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens her eyes, she fixates them on her wrists. “Jake asked me to marry him,” she mumbles.

That catches David off guard. He hadn’t heard, at any point over the years, that they had ended things, but he also hadn’t heard literally anything else about their relationship, so he’d assumed they were over. “Jake?” He asks, his surprise slipping through easily. “ _Jake_ Jake? The guy we both dated?”

“No, the other Jake,” Stevie snarks, even in her own turmoil.

David closes his gaping mouth and quickly processes that information. His very astute powers of deduction tells him this isn’t exactly a celebration. “So, I guess you turned him down,” he says, quietly, trying his very hardest to not be a shitty friend to her in her first big crisis in a while.

Something switches in Stevie. She pulls her hands from his to cover her brow, almost hiding a strange, wild emotion that filters over her eyes. “Its been six years,” she says quickly, forcing all of her words out in a jumble. “We’ve been seeing each other almost monogamously for six whole years. No breaks. And that’s what people do after six years of seeing each other, they get married. Except you’re supposed to marry someone you love, and I don’t love Jake!”

“Six years,” David contemplates softly, and he feels so weird about how much time he’s spent in this town. It doesn’t feel like six years. Most of it feels like a blink of an eye.

“He’s really hot, obviously, but I definitely don’t love him!” Stevie continues. “I never have, not even close. So, I just wasted six years of my life with some douchebag with killer abs.”

David brings a hand up to his face, his fingers fiddling with his own earlobe. “Yeah, well, I think it’s probably okay to admit that you were mostly in it for the head,” he says, as kindly as he can.

Stevie doesn’t miss a beat, like she’s not even listening to David. He does his best to not be offended by that. “It’s never going to happen for me,” she carries on. “If I couldn’t fall for the smokin’ hot handiman who gave me orgasms on the regular for six years, I’m probably never going to fall for anyone. Maybe I should just marry Jake. Right? Have some douchebag kids that scream at the grocery store and watch him slowly lose his abs and then his hair. People have loveless marriages all the time.”

David rolls his eyes. “Okay, I hitched my wagon to your post a long time ago, or whatever the phrase is,” he says, grabbing Stevie’s hands again to capture her attention. “I will not watch you whither away in a shell of a life like your ancestors. They suffered through terrible, missionary position sex once a year for the sole purpose of procreation so that you don’t have to. Somewhere out there is that perfect, horribly dry red wine you’ve been waiting for. And it’s not fuckin’ Jake, of that I am definitely sure.”

Stevie stares at David for a moment, through his eyes and into his soul. It pulls David back a little bit. “You’ve been spending more time with your mother,” she accuses him. And that’s true, they’d spent a lot of time together lately, and, like every other time they get close, it ended in a fiery explosion. David is a strong enough man to be able to wait until he got back to his and Patrick’s apartment to cry.

“Your information was wrongly served, she and I had a fight,” he says, turning his nose upwards. “We haven’t spoken since yesterday morning.”

“Wow, a whole day,” Stevie deadpans.

“We are not discussing my relationship with my mother, Madam Freud,” David deflects.

“I think it’s ‘Frauline’, actually,” Stevie interrupts.

David doesn’t even falter. “We’re talking about you and your ‘big-fish-small-pond’ issue.”

“Is that my issue?” She asks, her voice lilting in confusion.

“Yes!” David cries. “I can see in your soulful yet blank eyes that your biggest fear right now is becoming an unlovable shrew whose twelve cats eat your nose and the tips of your ears when you die alone, but you have to know that’s not true! You are a a real catch. You’re funny, and so stunning, and you’ve even been nice a couple times. The right tumbleweed will blow into this town that our lifepaths have converged towards. And you didn’t waste six years on Jake, okay? I’m sure you learned a lot of valuable life lessons from him. Over the last six years. That I had absolutely no idea about, which is, again, a violation of my friendship rights.”

Stevie rolls her eyes. “If I’m so great, why don’t you marry me?” She grumbles, not feeling any better from David’s words of encouragement.

“Because I don’t want to get married,” he says, but it tastes sour at it comes out. It rings out as distinctly untrue in his own mind, which is new. He’d said that sentence so many times throughout his adult life, it’s part of his personality. He could put the phrase on a sweater, and everyone would know it’s a David Rose Original. But it feels wrong tumbling out of his mouth. “I don’t want to get married,” he tries again, but loses his ability to speak by the end of the sentence. His body is physically rejecting his own rejection of marriage.

It seems to amuse Stevie, which is okay, because she deserves a little amusement. “It sounds to me like you want to get married,” she teases him.

“We are not talking about me!” David demands for what feels like the hundredth time during this conversation.

“We are now,” Stevie disagrees, leaning forward. “You just looked like you had a body snatcher invade.”

“Usually saying the opposite sentence makes me react that way,” David contemplates.

“Really?” Stevie teases him. “What would that opposite sentence sound like, David?”

Usually, David would have a snappy response; at the very least, he would tell Stevie to fuck off under normal circumstances. But he was a little shaken by the weird lapse in his commitmentphobia. Sue him for being slightly mailable. “I want to get married,” he says, and it feels more true than the opposite ever had.

“What was that?” Stevie prods with a smug grin.

“Shut up,” David snaps with no malice, waving his hand. He’s very preoccupied with his world-view shift. “I’ve only ever said that sarcastically.”

Stevie gives him a smile, one that he knows only after many years that she means she loves him, but also, that he’s a dumbass. “You should ask Patrick,” she asks, reaching over the desk to nudge him.

David’s eyes almost bug out of his head. “Uh, no!” He disagrees intently. “We haven’t talked about it. Not once. And if we had, the conversation began and ended with me saying ‘I don’t want to get married,’ which is obviously untrue now.”

“Okay, then at least talk to him,” she insists, smiling a little. It makes David feel somehow strong and unsteady. “The only reason I haven’t given up completely or caved to Jake’s proposal is because of you and Patrick. I believe in love. You two opened my eyes.”

That is by far the nicest thing she’d ever said to him. It makes him shudder. “Okay, that’s enough of that,” David sighs. He peeks over the counter to the computer’s clock, remembering why he came to the motel in the first place. “As much as I love our little chats, I’m actually here to talk to my dad, and I wrongly assumed he’d be working. Where is he?”

Stevie thinks for a second. “I think he said he went to lunch with your mom,” she tells him. “Is that going to be a problem? I know you two are in an epic, record-breaking argument.”

David rolls his eyes and forces himself away from the desk. “I don’t need to listen to this,” he says as he walks towards the door.

“Have a good day, Mr. Brewer!” Stevie calls, mocking him further.

David snaps around to look at her. “He will be Patrick Rose, let’s make no mistakes about that.” And, with that, David makes his exit. He can hear Stevie laughing from outside the office. She’s the worst sometimes.

{ - }

David finds Moira, and _not_ Johnny, at the cafe, sitting at a little table in the middle, the one she usually sits at when she’s alone. He knows that she secretly believes it is the table with the most flattering overhead lighting available for her skin tone. She’s reading some magazine he doesn’t care to absorb the cover of. Much to his surprise, when she spots David, she looks jovial. “David!” She calls, flipping her magazine to the next page and waving him over. “Come, join me.”

David hesitates by the bar, glancing at Twyla, who is busy at work for once, then looks back to his mother. “Okay,” he decides, but with no real force behind it. He wasn’t expecting this. Their fight just the morning before at breakfast had been atrocious. The handful of patrons at the cafe had stared as they slung nasty insults at each other, their volume building. They were wretched to each other just the previous day; she’s never been one to forgive so quickly, even when it comes to her precious first-born. David has no idea what to expect from her disposition.

He approaches her table, but doesn’t sit. He watches her sip her tea and read her magazine for a moment. “Why are you standing there, hovering like the ghost of conversations past, David?” She asks, her impatience just barely poking through her voice. “I believe I invited you to sit, not to loiter by my table.”

David huffs, debates running away, then sits down in the spare chair beside. He gives her an uneasy look, expecting their fight to pick up right where they left off. It’s not their worst fight ever, but it’s the worst since their move to Schitt’s Creek.

“David, why are you looking at me as though you are a battered housewife and I, your red-faced, Mississippi husband after a long afternoon of whiskey?” She asks, in a shockingly calm voice, tilting her head to look at him over her reading glasses.

David shouldn’t be so surprised by his mother, there shouldn’t be much left that she can surprise him with, but, somehow, Moira always managed to trample his expectations. “We had a massive fight yesterday?” He reminds her.

“We did?” She asks. She puts down her tea and looks away, trying her hardest to recall the previous day. As David remembers vaguely, she’s recently been in the habit of blocking out negative energy, advice from some townie taken too literally. “Well, no matter, David, the past is the past. Today is another beautiful day. This family must learn to forgive each other, lest we succumb to years of silent resentment, bubbling just below the surface until the toxic sludge of our tumultuous relationships spews forth and rains hot liquid fire onto our entire lives.”

“Not to unravel any drama you just neatly filed away, but you definitely started the fight,” David defends himself. He’s not open to rehashing what happened the day before, so he quickly changes the subject. “Where’s Dad? Stevie said he was here with you.”

“What?” She asks distractedly, glancing back up to her son from her magazine. “Yes, he was here, he left. Roland called, there was an issue at City Hall.”

David raised his brows at her. “And you decided not to go with?” He judges her. It was where she conducted most of her business, after all. An issue at City Hall seems like an issue a councilperson would care about, but apparently that assessment is incorrect.

“The men folk had the situation perfectly under control, and I had just gotten my tea,” she says, tapping on the lip of her mug with her perfectly manicured finger.

“I can’t really picture any situation that Dad and Roland are in charge of that could _possibly_ qualify as ‘under control’, but okay,” he says, flippantly. The door of the cafe opens, and David’s head snaps towards it. He, for some reason, had hoped it would be Patrick coming in, for absolutely no logical reason, but it was just Ray.

“What’s the matter with you?” Moira asks. David turns his head back to look at her. She’s observing him closely, her magazine closed and flipped upside down. Even her glasses are off, and set atop the magazine. She has this fond look on her face that is vaguely unsettling.

“What?” He retorts intelligently, leaning his elbow on the table to hide part of his face in his hand.

“You look gassy,” she explains. “Your cheeks are as rosy as milk maiden’s, not to mention twice as pretty, and your eyes contain a certain gleam that holds the entire expanse of the universe.”

“You’re very loquacious today,” David comments, offhandedly, not particularly liking her description of him.

“Has something happened between you and your darling Patrick?” She asks, like her ice blue eyes were easily reading the thoughts recently etched into the inside of his skull. “Perhaps a step in the direction of a happy future for my only son?”

He hides the stupid half-grin in his hand. His eyes fall onto the sugar packets. “I think I want to ask him to marry me,” he admits, just loud enough for her to hear him.

“ _ **What**_?!” Moira screeches. David quickly shushes her. “David!” She’s still screaming, and the other patrons of Cafe Tropical are glancing at them. It’s just a glance, the townspeople of Schitt’s Creek are used to Moira’s theatrics. That doesn’t mean David wants his business spread out to all the gossips.

“Oh, my god,” he complains, exasperatedly. He can’t really believe he got ensnared in this conversation. “A little tact, please?”

“I’m sorry!” She cries. When he glares at her, she sinks back and lifts her hands in apology. “I’m sorry.” It’s a more normal volume level for a private conversation. “Forgive me, it’s just quite a shock.” Her eyes dart around the cafe, no one is paying attention to them, but she leans into his personal space anyway. “Twasn’t terribly long ago you left us under the impression that holy matrimony was not your particular cup of tea. What’s changed?”

David shrugs and pulls on the ends of his sweater sleeves. “I don’t know,” he says, quietly. “We’ve been together for five years. That’s what couples do after five years.” Unbelievably, it doesn’t sound as hopeless as the way Stevie said it.

Moira snorts and swats at him. “Your father and I were married less than a year after our first kiss,” she tells him, like he doesn’t already know. “Had he waited five years to give me a ring, I may have had some sort of public fit.” She laughs, but it’s not a joke. That mental image definitely checks out.

“I think I’m nervous,” David admits to his mom. “I don’t have a ring, or a plan, or anything. I don’t even know if he would say ‘yes’ or not.”

Moira tsks, cocking her head to the side in the most condescending expression David has seen from her in a long time. “Of course he would,” she assures him. “That young man is completely enamored with you. He clings to your every word with bated breath, as though it may be the last you ever speak. I haven’t seen someone quite so smitten since first I laid eyes on a young Jonathan Rose.”

He tries to imagine his dad looking at his mom the way Patrick looks at him, and gets a little grossed out at the imagery. Mostly, it’s because she’s completely right. He’s watched his father dote on his mother so completely, for reasons he’ll never understand. Patrick loves David the exact same way Johnny loves Moira: unconditionally, and for no good reason. Of course Patrick would say ‘yes’. The thought makes David shiver, makes his heart race. He purses his lips to hide a stupid grin. Moira can read his face like a first grade beginner’s book, she knows exactly what he’s hiding.

“Oh, David,” she says, her voice so warm and soft it actually sounds like another person. “I am so happy for you and Patrick. Your father has been looking forward to walking his child down the aisle, and it’s looking less and less likely to be Alexis.”

This was most likely true. She had been on and off with both Ted and Mutt, mostly Ted, but she’s been “off” with both of them for a good few months now. After having been forced to know every little ounce of his sister’s drama, David had taken a very long step back from the intricacies that made up Alexis’ personal life.

“That’s never going to happen,” David promises, tenderly. The thought of either or both of his parents walking him down the aisle upsets parts of him he didn’t actually know he had.

His mission to find his dad had been put on hold long enough. David looks towards the door, then stands with intention his mother can only respect. “Bye,” He says, shortly. Just because she can’t remember their fight, doesn’t mean he can’t.

Moira, who had been mid sip of her tea, quickly puts down her mug. “Have a productive day, darling!” She calls as he walks away. “Give Patrick my love.”

David easily ignores her as he leaves the cafe, the rickety door slamming behind him. As he walks past the Apothecary, he peeks inside the store, but only sees their employee behind the desk. Patrick must still be at their new location about an hour away. David’s logical brain knew he would be, but he still hopes, anyway, only to be let down. He waves to Shawna behind the desk, who waves back with a smile, then carries on the dusty trail to City Hall across the street.

{ - }

At this juncture of his day, David should know better. He’d honestly expected his dad and Roland to be standing around, shooting the shit, or whatever obnoxious, middle-aged, white men do together, but, naturally, that isn’t what he finds. Instead, it’s Alexis he finds, perched on Ronnie’s desk. David’s sister is animatedly telling a story about their mother, and Ronnie is just eating it up. She loves to hear about Moira’s sloppiest moments, and is happy to indulge Alexis in some storytime.

“So she’s finally finishing up her speech, and she raises her glass,” Alexis says between giggles. “And everyone in the room can totally see it in her drink, like, the tail is poking out of the ice, and she proposes a toast to herself and all of her accomplishments.”

“And she drank it?” Ronnie is asking as David approaches the desk.

“Every drop!” Alexis confirms at top frequency. “She didn’t even flinch!”

Ronnie cackles, throwing her head back. David doesn’t see her this way very often, but Alexis tends to put the ‘free’ in ‘free spirits’. “Telling the sardine story?” He asks, knowing its a shared favorite of theirs, but one they don’t dust off often. Moira hates the story more than any other, stating quite adamantly that it’s too embarrassing and doesn’t support the image she’s created, and they mostly respect that. But, it’s nice to occasionally remember all of the crazy shit they did to their mom when she was drunk and they were bored.

Alexis nods in confirmation enthusiastically, finally looking over at her brother. “Kills every time,” she compliments herself. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for dad,” he explains, but quickly realizes his sister is hanging out at City Hall. “What are you doing here?”

Alexis waves her hand, like he’s the one doing something weird and strange. “I was just dropping off my proposal on Mom’s desk when Ronnie and me got to gabbing,” she says, and it surprises David. Sometimes, he forgets that they both grew into adults in this town. It’s semi-normal for Alexis to drop off proposals for the council to review these days. David feels old. “Why do you look so gassy?”

David stares at her in absolute disbelief. That adjective has never, not even once, been used to describe David Rose, and now it’s been used twice in twenty minutes. “I wasn’t aware I looked gassy,” he says, coldly.

Ronnie snickers behind her hand. When he looks sharply at her, she pointedly looks away and pretends like she’s working.

“You look like you’re struggling to keep something inside,” Alexis explains a little more clearly.

“And your first thought is that I look gassy?” David demands.

Alexis puts a hand on his arm, meeting his eyes with a very serious expression. It’s so serious, it almost doesn’t fit on her face. “Gas is nothing to be embarrassed about, David,” she promises, but he knows her, he knows she’s trying to be annoying.

“I am not gassy!” He cries, then immediately glares at Alexis. “I’m out of here.” He turns and takes a step towards the door, but Alexis stops him, grabbing him roughly by the back of his very expensive sweater.

“Wait, David!” She exclaims, jumping down from the desk to skitter behind him and slow his pace. “I’m sorry. You just look different. The only thing that comes to mind is ‘gassy’, so I think you should take that as a compliment.” She starts to poke at his arm with her fingers.

David stops and huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “Thanks, I guess,” he says, letting his emotional exhaustion weave into his words.

Alexis continues to poke at her brother. “So?” She prompts. David just stares at her. “What’s different?”

David sighs, sparing a glance at Ronnie, who is obviously not actually working. Truthfully, he doesn’t care, Ronnie is pretty good at keeping the big stuff to herself. “I’m going to ask Patrick to marry me,” he mumbles, still so unsure, despite the excitement that shivers down his spine.

Alexis squeals loudly, grabbing David by the arms and jumping, her tiny body unable to contain her excitement. “Oh, David!” She croons, launching herself into his arms for a surprisingly tight hug.

“Okay,” David responds, slowly jerking his arms around her until he was patting her awkwardly on the back.

“I’m so happy for you!” It’s far too loud in David’s ear. She finally pulls herself back, but doesn’t let his arms go. “How are you going to do it? Can I see the ring? Wait, I thought you never wanted to get married? I’ve listened to so many eyebrow tangents about how anti-marriage you are.”

“Eyebrow tangents?”

“David!” Alexis’ patience has always been as thin as her bird-like wrists. “C’mon!”

“I don’t know what’s different!” David says. He glances to Ronnie, whose eyes dart back to her paper as soon as she’s spotted.

“Why do you want to get married all of the sudden?” She asks, and the sincerity behind her concern almost floors David. He can tell she’s worried he might be getting pressured into something he doesn’t want. Her slight distress is sweet, but misguided.

He takes a breath. He hasn’t really thought about it. It was a sudden jump that he was happy to fall into, but her question was very valid. “Because I love him,” David admits. “And my life is better with him in it.” He meets Alexis’ eyes, and her smile is encouraging. “I can’t picture my life without him. I don’t want to. I want him with me for every step of my life.” He bites his lip to contain his smile. Patrick has always made him beam without meaning to. “I want to be with him for every step of his life, too. I want it to be, like. _Our_ life.”

Alexis clutches at her heart as she listens. She lets out a soft whine, but she’s smiling, so David knows is a positive whine. “David, that is so sweet!” She says, and it doesn’t actually sound condescending.

“Well, thank you,” He says, dipping his head a little to hide his smile. He exhales, then looks around for a distraction. “As much as I would love to stand around here talking about my swift change in world-views, I am a very busy individual, and I have places I need to be. Do you know where Dad is?”

Alexis shakes her head. “I haven’t seen him since this morning,” she says.

“He went with Roland to Bob’s shop,” Ronnie says, pointing at David with her pen.

“Thank you, Ronnie,” David says, sincerely. “I wish you were my real sister.”

“Ugh, David!” Alexis complains.

David looks back to Alexis, and offers her a half smile. “Bye,” He says, turning with a flourish to leave.

“Call me when he says ‘yes’!” She calls after him with a wave.

{ - }

Johnny wasn’t at Bob’s. By the time the garage’s owner was kind enough to hang up the phone with Gwen to tell David that his father had left the shop with Roland to go help Jocelyn with something about Little Rollie, David wasn’t totally listening. At that point, David had been there for so long, he was tired of pretending to be nice. Bob commented on David looking a little different, but David has never felt like he needed to explain himself to Bob. He’s pretty sure he was sort-of friendly when he left the garage.

The Schitt’s invited David inside, and gave him a muffin he would have never asked for, because he’s been trying to watch his carbs, but he ate it anyway. In fact, he ate the muffin, asked for one for Patrick, and then ate that one after he left their house. Needless to say, Johnny wasn’t there, either. Roland beat around the bush a bit, but Jocelyn could sense David’s patience running thin. After an hour in the Schitt’s living room, she informed David that Johnny left for the cafe.

So, David, like a fool, walked past his own store again to go to the cafe, where his father still wasn’t. Twyla told him he went back to work at the motel, and David had to promise her that he wasn’t mad at her when she got misty-eyed at his sharp tone.

He swings into the motel office and, in a wildly unsurprising turn of events, his dad isn’t there. Stevie is still manning the desk, and she looks better than she had earlier. She must have eaten or something.

“Is my dad here?” He asks, only walking a step into the office so he doesn’t get sucked into the millionth sidebar conversation of the day.

“You’re still looking for him?” Stevie asks, surprise and amusement lilting her voice in equal quantities.

“Yes,” David pressures further, not enjoying how long his day of looking for his father had been.

“He’s in his room,” Stevie says, gesturing in the right direction.

“Thank you, you’re very helpful,” David breathes, the stress that’s been building all day finally releasing. “I’m glad you’re feeling better than earlier.” Before he can get more sidetracked, he leaves the office and closes the door behind him.

He marches down the aisle of doors to his parent’s, then knocks on it in quick succession. After a handful of moments, the door swings open, and Johnny is beaming when he sees who is there. “David!” He says. “What a nice surprise! Please, come in.” He steps aside to let David through, closing the door behind his son.

“I have been looking for you all day,” David complains.

“Really?” Johnny asks, surprised to hear that. “Well, alright, what can I help you with, son?”

“I-.” David cuts himself off. He shuffles through the many thoughts he’s had all day, trying to find the reason. He doesn’t remember. It’s like a hole in his memory or something. “I don’t remember.” He huffs, frowning more deeply than his delicate skin is probably prepared to. “I’ve been to every single building in this town twice, trying to find you, and I can’t remember why I needed to. Typical.” He walks across the room to sit at the table, where Johnny’s newspaper is still open.

“Why didn’t you just text me?” Johnny asks. He pulls his phone out of his pants pockets. “I would have met you somewhere.”

“I hate that you’re the one asking me that,” David says pointedly. Why hadn’t he texted his dad at any point during the day? Probably because, deep down under the layers of vocabulary and fashion archives, he’s an idiot.

“Are you feeling alright?” Johnny asks, crossing the room and standing behind the other chair, leaning onto the back.

David snaps his head up to look at his father. “Why, are you going to tell me I look gassy, too?” He asks, coldly.

Johnny looks away, almost ashamed. “Well, I wasn’t planning on saying anything, but-.”

“Oh my god!” David cries, staring at his father open-mouthed with annoyance.

“Not gassy!” Johnny amends quickly. “You don’t look gassy. You look-.” He searches through the thesaurus in his head. “You look a little unsettled, is all.”

David sighs and looks down at the newspaper, but doesn’t bother to take in any of the markings on it. “Truthfully, I’m shocked you didn’t hear this from Mom, or Alexis. Or Stevie. But, I want to ask Patrick to marry me.”

Johnny lets out a joyous laugh, clapping his hands. His surprise seems genuine, which means his family either forgot about him for the day, which is likely, or they actually managed to keep a secret to themselves. Johnny looks really happy for David. It’s reassuring, to know that his family supports him in this, even though he’s spent his entire adult life saying it never would never happen. “David, that’s wonderful!” He cries. “I can’t believe it! My boy is getting married!”

“Well, he hasn’t said ‘yes’ yet,” David argues, but hearing his dad say it makes it feel real. It’s a whole different level of excitement.

“I remember the day I decided to marry your mother,” Johnny retells. David knows this story, and all of their other stories, but David feels happy enough to let it slide. “I never thought of it as an option for me. I didn’t want a ball and chain to drag me down, no sir! I was going to be a bachelor forever. But your mother came along, and opened my eyes. You know, she’s never been a ball and chain. She’s always pushed me to be better, lifted me up when I was down. I needed her. It was like her presence made air easier to breathe, life easier to live.” David knows that’s a line his mother wrote for this exact monologue, but he doesn’t comment on that. “When I realized how badly I needed her, I knew I had to be her husband. I knew she and I were always supposed to be together.”

It resonates with David. All the times he’s heard this and every other story, he always thought that his parents just liked to use flowery words to describe themselves. It’s true, of course, they love to commend themselves on their relationship, but it’s more than just self inflation. There’s nothing off base about what Johnny describes. David knows that, because he feels that way for Patrick. Hearing his father talk so openly about love really cements in David that this is right. This is the most right thing he’s ever done in his life.

“I know exactly what you mean,” David promises, smiling slightly, his giddiness trying to escape from between his lips. He takes a breath to try and steady himself. “Now I just need to figure out a plan. And a ring. And basically every other detail of this circus besides the grooms.”

“You need a ring?” Johnny asks, pointing a finger at David. “I have some rings hidden away in your mother’s jewelry box. I can’t think of a better person to have one than Patrick.”

“Oh, no,” David says quickly, not trusting any rings his dad might have stored away. Their two personal tastes tend to clash. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Johnny waves him off, then pulls him up from his chair to get to the jewelry box perched on the dresser. “No problem, no problem at all!” Johnny insists, opening the box. He pulls out a little drawer that has four men’s wedding bands in it.

“Did you have trouble deciding?” David asks, looking at his father in confusion, then down at the rings again. They’re nice, much nicer than he expected, each one a little more decorated and ornate than the last. Obviously, they were made well. Honestly, they’re something David would actually pick out, and not at all something he’d expect Johnny to own. How had he never noticed these in the jewelry box before?

“They were your grandfather’s,” Johnny explains. “From all four of his marriages. They’re all yours, if you want them.”

“Mkay, well, I’ll probably just pick one,” he says. His fingers gravitate to the first in the line, the most classic looking of them all. It’s heavier than he expected, but it’s nice. It’s the one Patrick would like the most, by a long shot.

“That’s the one he wore when he was married to your grandmother,” Johnny says, with a grin, like he knew it was the one David would pick.

David tears his eyes away from the ring to look at Johnny. This is more than he could have ever expected. In fact, a few short hours ago, he would have never expected anything like this to ever happen ever. “Thank you, Dad. I really appreciate this.”

“Of course, David!” Johnny says, clapping a hand down onto David’s shoulder and pulling him a little closer. “I want you to be happy. And Patrick makes you happier than I’ve ever seen you before.”

David stares at the ring between his fingers, then tucks his lips between his lips to fight off a stupid looking grin. He is happy. He was happy this morning, when he got to wake up to a kiss from Patrick and a cup of coffee on the nightstand, just the way he likes it. He’s happy now, in his parents’ bedroom looking at heirlooms with his dad, and that’s very much the power of Patrick. “Well,” he exhales. “I’m going to get home.”

It’s hardly the first hug he’s ever gotten from his dad, but it still surprises David. He hugs Johnny back, after only a second of hesitation. “Good luck,” Johnny says, then pulls back from the hug. “He’ll say ‘yes’, I know it.”

David smiles and nods, the takes a breath. “Okay,” he says, then walks towards the door. Johnny follows him. “Bye.” With that, he walks out the motel room door.

{ - }

When David arrives home, Patrick is already there and, apparently, hard at work. Their entire apartment smells amazing, like all of David’s favorite restaurants from his former life all rolled into one. He follows his nose directly to the kitchen, where Patrick is busy making dinner. David can’t drag his eyes away from Patrick’s form; even from behind, he thinks Patrick is the most gorgeous person to have ever lived.

David notices how intently Patrick working on dinner. A whole new bloom of love expands over his chest and down his arms. As verbose as his mother trained him to be, David could never articulate how lucky he feels to have Patrick. All day long, he’s been missing Patrick, dreaming of him every spare second he got. He can’t help but reach out and put his hands on Patrick’s hips, pressing their bodies together, right where they belong. “Hi,” he greets him, softly, tucking his chin over Patrick’s shoulder. A big part of him wants to pull Patrick away from what he’s doing and kiss him senseless, but another, even bigger part of him is hungry, and very tired after a long day of chasing after his father.

Patrick turns his head to look at David as best he can, but it’s not easy in this position. “Hi,” he says back, tilting his head to press against David’s.

“It smells amazing,” David compliments, very genuinely.

“Thank you,” Patrick graciously accepts the complement. He puts down his wooden spoon, and picks up the fork on the counter to the side, spearing a shrimp from the dish he’s finishing up. “You are right on time.” He holds the fork up to David’s mouth with a little smile on his face.

“Am I?” David teases. “Thank you.” He blows on his sample briefly, then takes the bite. It’s extremely hot, and he has to take a small step back. “Hot.” He muscles through it, and exclaims at the taste. “Patrick! It’s so good! Oh my god! It reminds me so much of the meal I had at that adorable little bistro in Milan.”

Patrick turns off the stove, puts a lid on the pan, and turns to David. “Yeah?” He asks, stepping forward to be closer to David. He wraps his arms around the other man’s waist, his smile growing the closer they get. David falls a little more in love with his smile, which means another annoyingly adorable habit of his sister’s just got replaced. “I’m glad you like it.”

David wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders as he swallows, slotting their bodies together. “Of course I do,” he says softly. And Patrick knows, of course. David loves every little thing he does. Especially when Patrick cooks. Not only is he wonderful in the kitchen, it saves them from having to go to the cafe for a questionable dinner.

David leans in and kisses Patrick like he’s been dreaming of all day. It’s slow, and David is sure to invest every little morsel of love he has for Patrick into the kiss. When they pull apart, David lets himself wander aimlessly in Patrick’s eyes. Patrick’s hands are big and warm on his back, and David has never felt like this in his life. His heart is throbbing, and feels huge, and like Patrick is holding it safely in his magnificent, big hands.

Patrick pulls David towards their kitchen table a few feet away. “Have a seat,” he says, gently, and David is happy to comply. His feet ache after his galavanting all day. Had he known he’d be walking all day, he would have selected different shoes.

When David looks at the table, he finally notices the setting. There’s a new tablecloth on the table, and candles are lit, and wine glasses are waiting for them. It’s meticulously set, like Patrick had some help from someone. Out of the corner of his eye, he can vaguely see a similar romantic setup in their living room, music softly playing from their speaker. It’s unlike David to not notice something like this immediately, but he had been a little preoccupied with getting his hands on Patrick. He tucks his lips between his teeth as he examines his little speckle of grace he’s been gifted with, and sits at one of the table settings. Patrick is right there, filling his wine glass and passing it to David. “Thank you,” David graciously accepts his wine. It’s incredible, maybe one of the best wines he’s ever tasted, and so familiar. With a smile, Patrick turns back into the kitchen, starting to plate up their dinner. “How’d it go at the new store today?”

Patrick nods as he works. “Really, really well,” he says. “They’re getting a lot of customers, and the employees are very helpful. The manager knows what she’s doing.”

“Ainsley, right?” David asks.

“Abby,” Patrick corrects. “So close. You’ll get there.” David makes a mental note of her name. Abby. He won’t forget it this time.

“Right,” David says, shortly. He hesitates for a moment, not exactly which words he wants to select. “Does it-. Is the store-?” He pauses and sighs. “Does it look nice? Is the aesthetic right?”

Patrick chuckles and glances over his shoulder at David. “It’s exactly the way you showed her,” Patrick promises. “It’s organized, categorized, and alphabetized. It’s clean, and it smells fresh and woodsy, and they’re playing ambient jazz. It’s perfect.”

David trusts Patrick more than anything. If he says it’s perfect, David knows it’s perfect. All of the added details definitely help sell the point. He takes a breath to soothe himself and sags into his seat, taking another, rather large sip of wine.

“What about you, how was your day?” Patrick asks.

David rolls his eyes and sets his glass down. “I spent most of my day in every part of Schitt’s Creek except the one my dad happened to be inhabiting at that exact moment,” he complains, exasperated after his long day. “Stevie told me he was at the cafe, which he most certainly was not, but my mother was.”

“Did you two talk about your fight?” Patrick asks. He’d never seen Moira, or really anyone, for that matter, get to David like that; it was hard for him not to be concerned.

“No, because she simply doesn’t remember it,” he says, waving his hands like he’s performed the magic trick that poofed it from her mind. Patrick stops what he’s doing to look at David, his head tilted and his brows furrowed. “I know. Apparently, our nastiest fight since 2011 is just water under the bridge. So, she and I are fine, I guess?”

Patrick huffs out a soft laugh and turns back to their meal. “Then what happened?” He asks.

“She told me my dad was at City Hall with Roland,” David continues. “And he wasn’t there either, but _Alexis_ was? Also, very weird. She was talking to Ronnie, who said that they went to Bob’s, so I had to walk all the way to Bob’s shop, across town, just for him to make me wait for fifteen whole minutes while he and Gwen discussed last nights episode of The Amazing Race that they watched _together_. Then, he told me all about his gross dry patch on his thigh before finally sending me to Jocelyn’s. Oh, and guess what, Patrick?”

“Your dad wasn’t there either.”

“No, of course he wasn’t there, either,” David continues on. “She made me hold Little Rollie while Big Rollie told me about the time he and Jocelyn did mushrooms. And, also, a brief side note, Jocelyn is a wonderful baker.”

Patrick nods, turning to place their plates down on the table. “I know,” he says. “She made me a zucchini loaf with chocolate chips in it once and it might have been the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“What?” David asks, leaning back in surprise. “When was that?”

“About a year ago, for helping with her raccoon problem,” he says, topping off David’s wine glass before filling his own.

“Why didn’t I get any of this zucchini loaf?” David asks, only half teasing.

Patrick sits down beside David and takes his hand on the table. “Because you took a long time at the cafe that day, and my impulse control with baked goods is nonexistent,” he says, tenderly.

David rolls his eyes, but can’t keep the little, crooked smile off his face. “Anyway, I finally find my dad, and he’s at the fucking motel, where I started this ridiculous day,” he continues. “And I can’t even remember why I was looking for him in the first place.”

Patrick absorbs this, then let’s a grin spread over his entire face. “The special order forms,” he reminds David, evenly.

David slaps his hands over his eyes and presses. “The special order forms,” he breathes. “How the fuck did I forget the special order forms?”

Patrick reaches over and pulls David’s hands from his face. “I’ll pick them up tomorrow,” he promises. “Not to make you feel worse, but Stevie probably had them at the front desk.”

David groans, his whole face scrunching. “I was there twice,” he complains.

Patrick’s thumb strokes over David’s knuckles. “Poor baby,” he murmurs.

David opens his eyes and looks at Patrick very pointedly. “I know you’re being sarcastic, but I’ll take any sympathy I can get.”

Patrick chuckles, looking over David for a moment. David is caught off guard by it. Patrick looks open and soft, like he’s reliving every good memory, all at once. It’s hard for David to not get completely flustered. For a moment, Patrick looks like he’s about to say something, right on the tip of his tongue, but he breaks their gaze to look down at his own plate. “Shall we?” He exhales, gesturing towards his own exquisite work.

“Absolutely!” David agrees, already reaching for his fork. He gathers a little of everything onto the tines of his fork for the perfect bite, and notices that Patrick is waiting for his reaction. It makes David hesitate, but only for a second, because he not-so-secretly loves the attention.

The single bite transports him back to that little bistro in Milan he sometimes dreams about. It’s his favorite meal, exactly, every flavor and texture is the same, only this is much better, because Patrick made it, and Patrick is beside him. David let’s out a soft moan and closes his eyes, feeling all of his dreams coming together. “Oh my god,” he murmurs.

“Is it good?” Patrick asks, almost timidly.

David’s eyes snap open to look at him. He stares for a second, then leans forward in his seat, careful not to let his sweater touch his food. “This is the best meal of my life,” he says, and it’s forceful, but only because he really means it.

With a smile and a duck of his head, Patrick takes the compliment and starts to gather his own bite. “That’s a very esteemed compliment, Mr. Rose,” Patrick teases him, taking a bite.

David smirks. “One I definitely don’t give lightly,” he says. “René Redzepi once catered a very important luncheon I attended.”

“I have no idea who that is, but she sounds very important,” Patrick nods along.

“Okay, he’s a man,” David corrects, but grins anyway. “And he’s one of the best chefs alive. He’s changed the way the world sees Nordic cuisine. He had two Michelin stars at his restaurant.”

“Aren’t you a fountain of knowledge?” Patrick teases him, but David can see the glimmer in his eye that shows he’s impressed with David for knowing something he doesn’t.

“Only when it comes to luxury items and experiences,” David agrees as humbly as he can through that sentence.

It’s at this moment that David finally notices the label on the bottle of wine. It’s his second favorite wine, down to the year. Patrick definitely knows this, too, David has brought it up enough. The only reason his first favorite bottle isn’t on the table instead is because it’s very close to impossible to get and extremely expensive. This bottle is a lot more accessible, but still very difficult to acquire in little towns like theirs. He knew it tasted familiar. Frankly, this wine pairs better with the meal, a detail that doesn’t go unnoticed by David. Between the wine, the meal, and the immaculate place settings, David realizes, always fashionably late to the party, that Patrick had planned this. This wasn’t just some random, romantic night in.

“So, what is all of this?” David asks, very softly. He appreciates it, more than Patrick could ever know, but he doesn’t think he’s done anything to deserve it recently. He doesn’t want to seem ungrateful for the pampering.

Patrick licks his lips, and takes a breath, then sets down his fork. “I was going to wait until after dinner, but, I wanted to talk to you about something,” he admits quietly. “We’ve never really talked about it, but I think it’s time we do. It’s been on my mind a lot lately, and I keep feeling like if we don’t talk, I might explode.”

David takes a short gasp of his own, to remind himself he’s not actually drowning, before nodding. “Okay,” He says, wanting Patrick to continue.

He doesn’t continue for a moment. He looks at David like he’s the most precious thing in the universe. David’s face reflects the same feeling right back, which only makes Patrick softer. “I love you,” Patrick tells him.

“I love you, too,” David returns, so much more easily than he ever thought he’d be able to. He slides his hand across the table to take Patrick’s hand.

“Yesterday, when you came home after breakfast with your mom, you were kind of a disaster,” Patrick says. David looks away, not sure if he likes where this is going. “I’ve never seen you so torn up about something before. You were so upset, and you used me as your shoulder to cry on. Not Alexis or Stevie, but me. And I know that’s not anything new, I feel like I walk you through an emotional hurricane at least once a month, but it still makes me happy every time. Because every time you let me see past this strong, confident persona you wear so well, and you let me see the parts of you that you don’t want anyone else to see, I know I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.”

This surprises David. And confuses him deeply. He stares at Patrick. He has about a trillion words that threaten to tumble forward, but he holds them in. Patrick deserves a chance to speak. Everything he says always seems so perfect. David knows that if he opens his mouth, he’ll just stutter and ramble until Patrick can piece together what he’s saying.

“The best parts of my day are when we’re together,” Patrick continues. “I love waking up with you, and the look on your face when I bring you coffee at work, and how you let me use the bathroom first because of how vigorous your nightly routine is.” David nods along, clamping his mouth shut tighter to not speak too soon. He knows he’s a lot to handle, he’s been told many, many times, but Patrick never seems to struggle to keep up. The last thing he wants is to make whatever this is more difficult.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, David,” Patrick says, very seriously.

“What?” David responds, almost harshly from surprise. This isn’t what he expected. No, this was supposed to be his line, he’d spent all afternoon coming up with the same cliche to start off with. David was supposed to be the one professing his deep feelings for once, not Patrick.

“I want to marry you,” Patrick clarifies, in case David hadn’t gotten it yet.

“No,” David says quickly, frustrated that he wasn’t the one doing this. His body jerks backwards in his seat, his hand sliding halfway off of Patrick’s.

Patrick is taken aback. “No?” He squeaks.

“No!”

“Oh,” Patrick mumbles, and he looks down to his lap, pulling his hand from David’s the rest of the way.

It occurs to David that he’s just emphatically said ‘no’ while the love of his life was trying to propose. Twice. He chases after Patrick’s hand, sliding to the front of his seat to be as close as he can. “No, no!” He says again, because this hole he’s dug himself into apparently isn’t deep enough. “Not ‘no’. Just-.”

He had only just decided on this. He didn’t have a lovely speech prepared like Patrick did. He just had the ring. But the ring would be enough to prove that ‘no’ isn’t his answer. David quickly digs into his pocket and pulls out the ring from his father.

“What is that?” Patrick asks, staring at the ring between David’s fingers.

“I had a shockingly similar realization to yours this morning,” David admits. “I only want to live my life if I get to live it with you.” When Patrick realizes completely what’s happening, he locks eyes with David. “I don’t have a big speech, or a perfect, romantic night prepared. I just have a ring my grandfather wore when he was married to my grandmother to give you. And, like, maybe my last name.”

Patrick is just beaming at David. He slides himself in his chair a little closer to the corner of the table that connects them, and David does the same. Their knees press together under the table.

“That was the worst proposal I’ve ever heard,” Patrick says, but he sounds so fond, like he loves that David is a complete disaster.

David nods. “Yeah, yours was way better,” he agrees, leaning in to kiss Patrick. He loops Patrick’s ring onto his own finger so he doesn’t drop it. They’re smiling into each other’s lips, so it’s not the greatest in skill, but it’s still the best kiss of David’s life. Patrick cradles David’s cheek, his fingers tangling into the perfectly placed hairs at his nape.

After a long moment, Patrick pulls away, but David still feels his breath on his lips. “So, will you marry me?” He asks. When David opens his eyes, he’s greeted to the most gorgeous smile on Patrick’s face.

“Oh, yeah,” David says as casually as he can manage, like Patrick just asked him if he wants to go for a movie and post-movie discussion at the cafe.

Patrick laughs at him, leaning in to kiss him again, softly and quickly. It’s over too quickly for David’s liking, and suddenly Patrick is getting up. “I’ll be right back,” he promises. His eyes linger on David for a second, then he walks out of the kitchen and into the living room. David watches him grab something small off of their coffee table, and notices exactly how decorated their living room is, too. Patrick went all out, and it makes David’s heart throb. “You’re not the only one who got a ring,” Patrick says as he comes back through the doorway.

David could have expected as much. He was always so thoughtful with his gifts, David didn’t need to see the ring to know it’s perfect. Patrick sits back down beside David and opens the ring box for him to see.

David hadn’t ever looked at a lot of engagement rings for men. Obviously, he’d looked at many men’s rings, because he’s always been a dazzling accessorizer, but his aversion to marriage had prevented him from even wondering what that specific type of jewelry could even look like. When he sees Patrick’s ring, he can tell that it was very carefully selected, because it takes David’s breath away. It’s a wide band with a short, diagonal selection of diamonds embedded on the top. It’s perfect. David had no doubts about that before the box opened; Patrick has always seemed to have a very acute sense of what David would want.

David has to rip his eyes from the ring up to Patrick’s face. He’s so gobsmacked by it all. Finally, it sinks in that Patrick planned a perfect proposal, he pulled out all the stops to convince David to say ‘yes’, not knowing that he would have, regardless. Patrick could have asked him at the cafe in the middle of the Worst Rose Family Dinner Ever, he could have taken David to a horrendously smelly petting zoo and looped a traditional princess-cut cubic zirconia ring onto a goat’s horn, and David would have immediately said ‘yes’. But the meal and the candles and the beautiful, beautiful ring definitely help.

Patrick pulls the ring from its box and slides it home on David’s finger. It’s a perfect fit, and it’s comfortable on his hand. David stares at it for a long time before meeting Patrick’s eyes. “It’s perfect,” David breathes, overcome with emotion.

Patrick beams at the compliment, and at his fiancé. “You trained me well,” Patrick teases, leaning forward. David nods in agreement to that assessment, meeting him halfway for another sweet kiss. David reaches up to pull Patrick closer, and feels his fiancé’s ring still looped over his knuckle. He lingers against Patrick’s lips, then pulls back.

“Will you marry me, too?” He asks, removing the loose ring from his finger. Even though Patrick just asked him the same question, his heart still skips with nerves.

Patrick smiles so brightly that the candles look dimmer. “I think I can pencil you in,” Patrick agrees, teasingly. David rolls his eyes, but accepts the quick kiss Patrick extends to him.

They both look down to watch as David slides the ring onto Patrick’s finger. It’s a little loose, but nothing that can’t be altered. For a moment, all they can do is stare at their hands. This is absolutely real, they both agreed to spend their lives together. It makes a laugh bubble up and out of David’s mouth. As David stares at their hands that clasp together, Patrick stares at David. Patrick clasps their fingers together, their rings pressed against one another.

After what’s probably a very embarrassingly long time, David clears his throat and looks up to Patrick. “Our rings look very good together,” he compliments them, tilting his chin upwards.

Patrick’s grin is far too contagious as he nods in agreement. “I don’t think anyone could have predicted that,” he jokes, sliding his chair back and tugging their joined hands towards him. David gets the hint, moving from his chair into Patrick’s lap. Their fingers unlock as they get comfortable in their favorite sitting position. “You right next to me was always going to look good.” His voice is so soft and so open, but it tears through David’s chest. He’s always left so breathless by Patrick’s perfectly timed one-liners. How did something so cheesy carry so much weight?

David almost pretends to not be as affected by his fiancé, and then realizes that Patrick is his fiancé. That thought makes his heart race and his head spin in the best way possible. He reaches up to trace his fingers over Patrick’s cheekbone. “I didn’t think I was physically capable of feeling like this,” he admits. It’s true. Even in the deepest archives of his memory, he has never felt so happy. Patrick’s light has changed David; the ring David put on his finger doesn’t come close to showing him how grateful David is for everything, but it’s a start. He has the rest of his life to prove himself. “I mean, I had no idea. Nothing’s-.” He hesitates, but he trusts Patrick with his heart. “Nothing’s ever come close.”

Patrick leans into David’s fingers, and David can see very closely how much Patrick loves him. “I can’t wait to be your husband,” Patrick says, and those words make David’s insides sing.

“Mr. Patrick Rose,” He teases, leaning in for a kiss.

“Have you been reading my diary?” Patrick jokes against David’s lips, then falls into the kiss. David laughs against his lips, but kisses his fiancé all the same.


End file.
